Assisted Living

by E. M. Foner

  “Prepare for acceleration,” Dewey announced. “I’m about to engage the engine.”

  “I thought Flower was piloting,” Bill said.

  “Only the docking sequence. I’ve let us drift away from the orbital in case anybody was watching, but we’re in the clear now.” A soft humming sound began and Bill was pressed back in his seat, almost biting his tongue as he had been about to ask another question.

  “I’ve been rethinking the whole delivery concept, and I’ve decided we might do better with a concierge service,” Flower continued over Bill’s implant.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Less work for more money and better tips.”

  “I meant the word.”

  “It’s the closest term I could find in your limited language to describe someone who provides a high level of service that includes handling packages without asking too many questions.”

  “Smuggling?”

  “Where do you get these ideas? Smuggling is illegal.”

  “And what we’re doing is legal?” Bill asked sharply.

  “It’s a grey area. Don’t you trust me to do what’s best for you?”

  “I let you start listening in on my implant, didn’t I?”

  “Oooh, bad move,” Dewey muttered.

  “But why would you encourage piracy?” Bill asked. “You’re going into production yourself.”

  “I want to learn about the distribution side of the entertainment business and it makes sense to start locally. I intend to cultivate a relationship with the Grenouthians who sell dramas and documentaries in the bazaar. When my own animated production is ready, I hope they’ll be willing to use their contacts to help me distribute it throughout our circuit and beyond.”

  “I don’t understand. How will having access to piracy networks help? Razood told me that pirates sell cheap because they aren’t paying anything to the producer.”

  “It’s called guerilla marketing,” the Dollnick AI explained patiently. “The galactic entertainment business is extremely crowded, and just getting attention for new productions requires an enormous amount of ad spend. I’ve been running the numbers for a launch promotion, and it turns out that for many audiences, including Humans, it’s cheaper to build an audience by giving away content than by selling it through advertising.”

  “But you won’t make any money,” Bill pointed out.

  “Look at it this way,” Flower said. “Let’s say I create an animated feature that I could sell into the home entertainment market for three creds a viewer, ignoring the cost of delivery media. If I have to spend four creds on advertising to make each sale, my profit is actually higher if I simply hand the master over to the pirates and let them bear the copying and distribution costs.”

  “What profit?”

  “It’s all in the bookkeeping.”

  Ten

  “A hamburger deluxe with steak fries, hold the pickle,” Julie called over the counter to the cook.

  Without even turning his head, Hank sang back,

  Hold the burger, hold the bun

  Human diets are no fun

  Eat like that, you’ll lose a ton

  Human Burger

  “Did you just make that up?”

  “I heard it at the open house that Human Burger ran here looking for new employees a few months ago. If you work at one of their outlets in Drazen space, you have to be able to make up songs for the customers.”

  “You were thinking of quitting your family’s diner and taking a job with Human Burger?”

  “I was just curious, though the education benefits were terrific. They’re owned by Eccentric Enterprises, the same outfit that Flower supposedly works for, though everybody knows that it’s just a front for EarthCent Intelligence.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Well, you’re new. Anyway, I thought I’d try to get you motivated for your singing lesson.”

  “So this is where it all happens,” a new voice announced, and Julie turned to see Zick taking a seat next to the waitress station. “Can I get a coffee?”

  “You look tired,” Julie observed, reaching over the counter for the pot and mug, and then pouring a cup for him. “Cream or sugar?”

  “Black, like my heart.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s just a pirate saying,” Zick reassured her. “I’ve been up for thirty-six hours working on a char for Flower’s competition. Wanna see it?”

  “Uh, sure. What’s a char?”

  “It’s short for a character,” Zick explained. He unfolded his tab and brought up an image of a bulky alien with leathery skin and three-toed feet. “Flower wanted new ideas for alien superheroes so I came up with a Verlock ninja. I call him Slomo, for slow motion.”

  “What does he do?”

  “Everything a ninja should do, but slower. Here, watch his roundhouse kick.”

  The alien character executed a flawless martial arts move that would have knocked the head off an opponent who somehow failed to see it coming. Given that the Verlock moved like he was submerged in molasses, surprise seemed unlikely.

  “But what’s the point of a ninja who can’t fight?” Julie asked.

  “He can fight, just slowly,” Zick pointed out. “Anyway, the competition is for chars, not stories, though I do all three.”

  “Chars and stories only makes two.”

  “I code too. I’m a triple threat.”

  “So if you were coming up with a story, what would you do with your slow ninja?” Julie asked. Against her will, she found herself drawn in by the bizarre animation of a fighter from the advanced species that was known primarily for its mathematical and scientific acumen.

  “I’d find a way to make him effective,” Zick answered without hesitation. “Like, there could be an enemy with a kinetic suppression field that restricts everybody to slow motion, and Slomo would be the only fighter who wasn’t thrown off his game. Or maybe he can drink a potion and move at normal speed for a while. Potions are always good for storylines in games because then you have to manage your inventory and search for more.”

  “He’s actually kind of cool,” Julie said, taking the two plates that Hank gave her, and balancing one on her forearm to keep a hand free for the ketchup bottle. “I never did anything creative like that.” Then she brought the food out to the couple at table five and returned again to the counter.

  “Do you want to come to the competition with me?” Zick asked. “They’re going to project all of the chars in a giant hologram as Flower chooses the winners. Everybody from Bits is going to be there.”

  “All twenty thousand of you?”

  “Well, the five thousand or so who came up with new chars, though most of them worked in teams. I’m heading there right after I finish this, and maybe one of those chocolate donuts,” he added, with a hungry look at the pastry display. “Maybe two.”

  Julie removed the glass bell lid and used individual waxed papers to pull out two of the chocolate-glazed chocolate donuts. “I have a singing lesson after work.”

  “You could come later. The competition will be going on for hours.”

  “This evening is theatre rehearsal, it’s my required team sport.”

  “Okay, I didn’t mean to push,” Zick said, though he sounded disappointed. “How long have you been singing?”

  “I haven’t, I mean, this is my first lesson. I only signed up because the Drazen who runs the dojo suggested it.”

  “You train in martial arts with an alien? I’ve seen the Drazens in professional cage fights. Their tentacles make it impossible for humans to compete with them.”

  “Jorb promised to keep it behind his back. He mentioned that it’s hard to find humans willing to sign up for his classes because of the tentacle.”

  “I know some people who might be interested,” Zick said. “How do I contact him?”

  “Just ask Flower for Jorb’s dojo.”

  “Hey, Julie,” said a pretty girl whose hair was
arranged on a trellis in imitation of the Frunge style. “If you have somewhere to go, you don’t have to wait for the end of your shift.”

  “Thanks, Renée,” Julie responded. “I’m going to my first singing lesson so I’d like to get there early.”

  “Who’s this handsome guy you’re plying with donuts?”

  “Oh, this is Zick, he just joined Flower at Bits. Zick, Renée,” she introduced them formally.

  “Wanna see my char?” Zick asked immediately.

  “Sure, I love anime,” Renée replied. “I heard there’s going to be a big competition tonight and I’m planning on stopping in if it’s still going when I get off work. I’m only on for the dinner rush.”

  Julie took her leave and headed for the nearest lift tube, where she instructed the capsule, “Choral Creations, please.”

  “That Zick has talent, but Bill is better for you,” Flower said as the capsule moved off.

  “I thought you promised not to get involved in my love life or lack thereof.”

  “I can play back our verbal contract if you need your memory refreshed, but my part of the agreement was limited to—”

  “All right, no need to go all legal on me,” Julie interrupted. “I’m nervous about my lesson.”

  “Why? Because I made fun of your singing in the shower? I think all Humans sound funny.”

  “What about Drazens?”

  “They’re very good, actually. They win all of the major tournaments, you know.”

  “Singing tournaments?”

  “The tunnel network species compete at everything, if you haven’t noticed,” the Dollnick AI said, as the capsule’s door slid open on an unfamiliar corridor. “Turn right.”

  “Thanks. Where am I?”

  “The main education deck. I like keeping things organized.”

  “You don’t think I’m overdoing it with the two jobs, the dojo, my theatre practice, and now singing?”

  “Idle Humans make work for the social services. Besides, all of your activities could end up tying together.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Well, you could get a role performing in a musical with fighting. Now through the doors in front of you,” Flower instructed over Julie’s implant. “You’re a bit early, but so are all of the parents who come to listen to their children, so go right in.”

  “That’s a change from being told I’m not early enough,” the girl said. She paused just outside the range of the door’s proximity sensor and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I let you and Jorb talk me into this.”

  “Developing your singing voice will open new career options, in addition to boosting your endorphin and oxytocin levels, which M793qK reported were on the low side.”

  “And what will that do?”

  “Make you feel better,” the AI said. “Just go in.”

  The door slid open on what sounded like a chorus of angels, which almost stopped her in her tracks. She edged through the opening, keeping her back to the wall, and found herself standing with a group of parents, none of whom noticed her arrival.

  In the center of the room, a brown-skinned alien with hair almost as long as her tentacle stood with her back to the door. She was conducting a large group of children whose ages ran from as young as six or seven to as old as perhaps twelve. A few of the taller boys might have been borderline tenors, but the rest of the group were definitely altos or sopranos, and they were pouring their hearts into the song about—Julie frowned.

  “Flower?” she subvoced. “Are they really singing about radioactive ore extraction techniques?”

  “It’s a classic Drazen song,” the Dollnick AI replied. “Try disabling the translation.”

  “You mean they aren’t singing in English?” Julie flipped the mental switch to turn off the translation function of her implant, and the words of the song were suddenly out of reach, though the musical impact was undiminished. “How can the implant have kept the tune while translating the meaning?”

  “Haven’t you noticed that when you’re conversing with members of other species the emotional content of their speech comes through clearly? High-end implants aren’t limited to merely running a translation. They map the other components of speech and sound to the appropriate areas of your brain.”

  The Drazen choir mistress let her arms fall to her sides and the concert came to an abrupt end. Released from the spell of the music, the children reverted to their native state and rushed for their parents or the bathroom, depending on their personal needs. A little boy dragged his father over to Julie and introduced her as “The reading circle lady who taught me how to say ‘rhinoceros.’”

  The man shook her hand and muttered under his breath, “And he’s been saying it a hundred times a day ever since.”

  Finally, the room was empty, and the choir mistress approached Julie with a shy smile. “I’m Rinka, but that’s just the English translation for Eldest Daughter. If you’ve never met any Drazen females, our true names are musical notes that don’t translate.”

  “I’m Julie,” the girl replied, accepting the warm handshake. “Do Drazen males also have musical names?”

  “We just call them whatever,” Rinka said with a giggle. “Most of them can’t even read musical notation.”

  “Is that due to a physical difference between you?”

  “They just don’t pay attention to their lessons while they’re young and it’s nearly impossible to learn when you’re older. Have you ever sung in a chorus?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Julie said. “Singing in the shower is about it for me.”

  “Do you have a favorite song you’d like to perform for me so I can assess your level?”

  “How about we just assume it’s zero and start from there,” Julie suggested. “I suspect that I’m tone-deaf.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much. Did you get here in time for the end of the children’s practice?”

  “It was so beautiful that I almost cried.”

  “Then you aren’t tone-deaf, but let’s do a quick test. Did you grow up on Earth?”

  “Yes, a place called New York.”

  “I have the sheet music for a test one of your governments used to administer for free over your pre-Stryx network. Flower found it for me.” Rinka led Julie to an upright piano against the wall, and taking her seat on the bench, commented, “Can you believe that I got this instrument for free the last time we stopped at Earth? I had to pay to bring it up on the elevator, but the owner was just happy that it was going to a good home.”

  “I remember seeing pianos in abandoned apartments when I was a child. They’re just too heavy to move.”

  The Drazen swiped the extra thumb on her left hand across the large tab that sat on the music stand and brought up a series of musical bars with English song titles.

  “If this is a test, I just cheated by accident,” Julie said. “I couldn’t help reading the titles and I recognized most of them.”

  “That doesn’t matter for this test,” Rinka said. Then she played through a dozen notes of the first song. “Did that sound right to you?”

  “Yes?”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  “I mean, there was a note in the middle that might have been lower than I recall, but then it went back to normal.”

  “Have you ever heard a song played one note at a time?”

  “Probably not,” Julie said. “It’s different.”

  “I’m going to play each of these, and if something sounds off to you, just tap my shoulder and I’ll go on to the next one.”

  A few minutes later, Rinka gave her the results. “Twenty-five out of twenty-six, you have fine pitch. Are you ready to try a duet with me?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Something simple. Do you know the theme song to Let’s Make Friends?’”

  “Everybody knows that one.”

  “I’ll play it through once on the piano first, and the second time we’ll sing along.” Rinka played through the
chords with both hands, though she kept her extra thumbs folded in. Then she launched into the song lyrics and Julie forced herself to join in.

  Don’t be a stranger, because I look funny.

  You look weird to me, but let’s make friends.

  I’ll give you a tissue, if your nose is runny.

  I’m as scared as you, so let’s make friends.

  Julie ran out of breath at the end and broke into a coughing fit.

  “Oh, dear,” Rinka said. “Perhaps we should start with breathing techniques. Do you often find yourself short of breath when you’re talking?”

  “I never really noticed, but I don’t usually talk all that much.”

  “Here, let’s start with an exercise I do with the children. First, let’s stand up, shoulders relaxed, but no slouching,” the Drazen said, positioning herself next to Julie. “Look, we’re almost exactly the same height.”

  “Unless you count your tentacle.”

  “Oh, it goes up by itself sometimes when I’m having fun. Now, I’m going to put my hand on your abdomen and I want you to push it out when you inhale.”

  “I don’t think my lungs go down that far.”

  “That’s because you Humans rarely use your full lung capacity. Breathe in through your nose and exhale through your nose and your mouth. Try not to raise your shoulders when you inhale. The idea is to evacuate more space in your body so the air will get pulled all the way down there.”

  “Am I moving your hand?”

  “Yes, but try to do it with your breathing, not by pushing out your abdominal muscles.”

  Julie spent almost two minutes breathing in and out next to the Drazen before she realized that the alien rarely seemed to take a breath unless she was demonstrating. “How come you’re not breathing with me?”

  “Our metabolisms are more efficient than yours so we don’t need to breathe as often unless we’re expelling air by talking or singing. We actually have the best lung function of any of the oxygen-breathing species on the tunnel network. Our scientists claim it’s a direct result of our singing tradition.”